#are we gonna do anything with it?? to my brain

[rebelfell]

Evidently never gonna be done with thoughts of these two... 18+, MDNI 4.8k

older!fem!Harrington!reader x eddie munson

cw: unprotected piv, finishing inside

cont'd from here

The ride back to the house is silent.

No music playing. No words being said. Just the rumble of his van’s engine and the spin of its tires making the floor vibrate underneath your feet. Eddie’s hands keep tensing, his white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel never loosening as he navigates the deserted, winding backroads.

The trip that seemed to take only minutes on the way now stretches on interminably. Like when you wake up from a dream and the elasticized time snaps abruptly back in place and you realize your alarm has been going off for over an hour and now you’re definitely late for work.

You swallow thickly as you stare out the window at the blur of trees whipping past, your fingers twisting in your lap as you pick at the skin around your thumbnail. You rack your brain for some words, any words, that might be helpful. That might somehow fix this mess you’ve made.

But there isn’t a lot left to say after the lake.

Eddie, don’t, you can’t say stuff like that.

Why not? It’s the truth, it’s how I feel, I—

Because this can’t go anywhere! I’m leaving, I’m going back to—

Then I’ll leave too! I’ll go with you, I’ll go wherever you go, I just want to be with you.

Stop it, you don’t know what you’re saying.

He tries to tell you he does mean it. He means it more than he’s ever meant anything in his whole life. He doesn’t care about Hawkins or his stupid community college classes or his handful of odd jobs he could do literally anywhere. He’ll pick up and move. He’ll work. He’ll take care of you.

He’ll do anything so long as this doesn’t end.

What about Steve?

You stare at him plainly, certain you’ve delivered a death blow. And his face does flicker, if only for a moment, as the guilt that’s been festering in his gut for months finally shows through. And even as he shakes his head as determinately as he can, the waver in his voice is unmistakable.

I’ll…I’ll explain it to him.

Explain what? That we fucked on every available surface in his house?

Eddie shrank at your harsh words, not ready for the anger that flashed in your eyes, nor the vitriol that rose in your voice when you so crassly described the best summer of his life.

No! Well…yeah, but—I don’t know, I’ll figure it out!

Okay, and then what? We date? You practically spat the word out. Show up for Christmas dinner at your best friend’s house? Sit across the table from him as his aunt’s…as my…

You can’t even say the word “boyfriend”—it feels so juvenile, so high-school.

The argument drags on until the deep, brilliant midnight blue sky begins to tinge gray with the arrival of a cold and sickly dawn. Eddie probably would have kept going until the sun rose, until it hung in the middle of the sky, until it had set and come back up all over again. But you told him as calmly as you could that you had to go back. 

It was time.

His van practically crawls to a stop in the driveway, the screech of his brakes mixing with the soft tweets of birds just beginning to stir. He shifts it into park and reaches up to grab the keys and cut the ignition, but you lay your hand on top of his to stop him.

“I don’t think you should stay,” you tell him, forcing back the wobble in your voice.

And the way he looks at you when you say it makes you feel like you’ve been stabbed. His face crumples, his brow pinching together, his mouth contorted in an ugly shape more snarl than frown.

“Don’t do this…” he says, gritting out the words through a clenched jaw. “Please.”

And it’s not the sort of begging you’re used to hearing out of him. It’s not an eager plea for you to kiss him or touch him, nor a cheeky request to fuck you somewhere you could get caught. This is real begging. It’s him clawing at you from behind a chain link fence, a lost puppy who wants only for you to take him home from the pound.

Not asking for anything but you.

“Eddie, we can’t—”

He reaches out for you, his hands coming up to cup the sides of your face, his touch somehow soft and tender despite the rigid tension you can see in his arms, in his back, in his shoulders.

“We can do anything we want,” he whispers.

His breath is warm on your lips as his forehead rests against yours. He really believes it. And god do you want to believe it too. But…

“I’m sorry.”

Tears brim along your lashline as you wedge your fingers under his to wrench them from your face, rushing to get out of the van before he can stop you. Your footsteps thud on the concrete as you retreat inside the house and lean on the door in the foyer until you hear him backing down the driveway and the glow of his headlights has disappeared completely from view.

You drift back upstairs, heading for your sister’s room that has lain untouched since they left. Past all the places you and he defiled this summer. Past your bed with its rumpled sheets that still smell of Camels and cologne. Past the guest room where Eddie barely slept, lying awake at night thinking of you instead. Past the answering machine and its flashing red light that signals a new message has been left, one you’ll listen to in the morning with bleary bloodshot eyes.

It’s your sister letting you know they’ve changed their flight. They’ll be home tomorrow.

Which is now today.

Having John and Viv back in the house is an adjustment.

Upon playing their message, you and Steve did a sweep of every room trying to get it back up to his mother’s impeccable standards you’d let slide since your arrival…in more ways than one.

You don’t see much of Steve’s father, which feels normal because you never do. Even after all the deals he closed this summer, he somehow only has to work more now that he’s home. Most mornings, he’s up and headed to the office before the rest of the world has hit the first snooze on their alarms. And some nights he stays until long after the rest of the house has gone to bed.

It gives you and your sister lots of time to talk. Well, it gives her time to talk. And the one thing she simply can’t seem to stop talking about is how incredible the yard looks.

She keeps looking out the windows and sighing wistfully as she stares at the haven Eddie has created. She starts to take her morning coffee, her afternoon tea, her evening glass of port out on the patio just to marvel at the perennials just beginning to flower. She’s beyond thrilled.

And you’re…fine. At least you can pretend like you are. Most days.

It’s easy to slip back into the state of numbness that was your home base after everything with your ex. But with him, you had just felt mad. There was no guilt or remorse eating away at your insides. No bottomless pit of doubt in your stomach, no needling thoughts of regret gnawing at you constantly. No part of you left wondering if you’d made a terrible mistake.

Or rather, another one.

What’s really not helping is Viv going out of her way to berate you about how you’re going about this all wrong. She’s quick to scold you for moping around the house, asking if this is what you’ve done all summer. She’s adamant you should be getting back out there—back on the bike or the horse or whatever other tired ass cliche you preferred.

It’s during one of these rants that the phone rings and mercifully cuts her off. Steve is calling. He left his lunch at home and he’s wondering if someone can bring it to him. Vivian grins.

“Your aunt would love to. She was just saying she needed to get out of the house.”

And she’s not wrong, even if it’s her and not the house you need a break from.

But as you make the turn into Family Video’s lot, your stomach drops at the sight of the brown and white van parked out front. Eddie’s long frame leans on the hood, unlit cigarette dangling out of his mouth, his hands resting on the hips of a girl he’s got pressed up against him, his fingers toying with the frilled hem of a baby pink top that flashes the bare skin of her lower back.

Your neck is as stiff as death as you walk past, keeping your eyes glued to the door in front of you, trying to ignore the breathy laugh that floats on the air and punctures your brain. You yank on the handle a little too hard, the silver bell overhead even louder in your already ringing ears.

Steve lets out a loud groan of relief when he sees you, or rather when he sees his lunch, and he tears into it right there on the sales floor. He’s the only one on today and the store is deserted— everyone likely at the pool or out enjoying the last few weeks of freedom and warm weather.

Or going for a gold medal in tonsil hockey.

You fold your arms across your chest and lean over on the counter, sneaking a glance over your shoulder you know you’ll regret. Most of the display going on outside is obscured by the decals and posters on the windows, but you can still see plenty. Eddie leans in to whisper something into that girl’s ear and you feel about as tall as the scattered crumbs from Steve’s sandwich.

As he chews, your nephew’s gaze follows yours out the window. His brows raise as Eddie grins and he starts to run his hands down the curve of her spine, slipping them snugly into the back pockets of her jeans. Unable to see the grimace on your face, Steve just nods approvingly.

“About time,” he sighs as he rips off another bite. “He’s been like…catatonic lately.”

The sourness in your stomach only curdles further until you mutter out a goodbye to Steve and turn to make your escape. But the very moment that you do, that girl is taking Eddie by the hand and pulling him along behind her into the store. You and she nearly collide at the door, close enough you can smell the sickly sweet peach lip gloss she’s wearing.

“Oh! Sorry, ma’am,” she says, blithely smiling as she floats over to the new releases.

Behind her, Eddie stands staunchly in the doorway. He takes up the entire exit, his dark clothes seemingly absorbing all the light in the room as you lift your chin to look him in the eye.

You expect to find contempt. Something callous and unfeeling. More than merely smug, you’re sure he will be dripping with arrogance and condescension. Because he’s got every right to be, doesn’t he? You really think I cared about you? Don’t you see how fast I can replace you?

But when you do look at him, there is only pain etched into his features. He holds your gaze for no more than a few seconds, but it feels like an eternity. You think that all of civilization could be crumbling into ruin around you and you would never know because you can’t stand to tear your eyes away from his. And you don’t, until he drops his head and turns sideways to let you pass.

His cologne stings in your nostrils as you do, and your arm brushes the edge of his denim vest. And you don’t make it but a block away before you have to pull off onto a side street and cry.

For the next two weeks, the sky is permanently gray.

Dark and mottled clouds roll in sometime that evening and suddenly even the smallest sliver of sunshine becomes as precious as real gold. Their coverage is dense and the air becomes thick and muggy with humidity that only gets more oppressive, yet never gets any closer to breaking.

Every day, the house seems to get smaller. It’s like you’re a rat in a maze and the scientists who are studying you keep removing portions of it until you’ve been boxed in with no escape. But the idea of going out, the thought of running into Eddie again, is too much for you to bear the risk.

The only thing that brings you any sort of solace is that the school year will start soon and you’ll have work to distract you again. Truthfully, the only reason you have yet to extract yourself from Hawkins is because your new housing—a little craftsman you’re going to rent from the head of your department at the university—won’t be ready for you to move in until the end of August.

But the looming threat of your departure somehow only encourages Vivian.

You should have known something was up the moment she said she wanted to have a “family dinner” to celebrate your last night. You should have known when you came into your room and found a bag from her favorite department store sitting on your bed containing a sundress far too floral for your taste. It might as well have had a post-it on it that said “Wear Me” like your mother used to put on your school clothes when she laid them out for you in the morning.

If you were smart, you might have thrown it out the window. Or maybe even climbed through it yourself and scaled down the trellis to make a run for it. Instead, you put it on. And your feet are like lead on the steps as you come down to find your sister bustling around the dining room.

Your brow furrows as you count four place settings. “I thought Steve had a date,” you say.

“He does,” she hums, shooting you a sidelong glance. “And so do you.”

“Viv, no. Please don’t do this—”

“I haven’t done anything!”

She throws her hands up and smiles, but all the faux innocence in the world can’t disguise that glint of mischief in her eyes. You open your mouth to protest, but you’re cut off by the doorbell.

“That must be him,” she titters, flapping a napkin behind you to shoo you into the foyer. “Go on, now, don’t keep him waiting!”

Eddie parks his van down the street from Steve’s house, under the cover of some tree branches that hang low over the road. He smokes two cigarettes down to the filters and debates on a third as he tries to summon the courage to get out of the car. Every part of his body seems to be at odds with him, unwilling to settle until he finally kicks open the door and gets out.

His feet carry him forward in long, determined strides but they falter when he sees a car he isn’t expecting sitting in the driveway. It’s a cruiser. One Eddie found himself pulled over by on more than a few occasions, being scrutinized by the giant hulking man now ringing the doorbell.

Hopper.

He’s not in uniform. In fact, he’s more dressed up than Eddie has ever seen him, all trussed up in a sport coat over a button down that he’s actually buttoned. Shit, is his shirttail tucked in?

“Munson?” he says in surprise. “What brings you here?”

But before Eddie can answer, the door is opening and it's you on the other side. Eyes widening when they land on him and then blinking furiously when you realize Hopper is there as well.

“Um…hi.”

It’s hard to say who looks more uncomfortable as you step aside so Hopper can come in and you exchange some stilted pleasantries. You remember him from high-school and you aren’t all that surprised the town’s terminal bachelor is the one your sister has decided to foist upon you.

What is surprising is that Eddie is here. And his eyes are searing into you, while you have yet to fully acknowledge him. In all honesty, you're not entirely convinced he isn’t a hallucination. Only when Viv appears and glides into the chaos like a parade float do you actually believe it.

“I thought that was you, Chief. So glad you could make it—Oh, Eddie!” 

Her eyes fall on the boy still hovering in the doorway, her hand coming up to her chest. 

“I’m so sorry, dear, but Steve’s already left for his date. Wait right here, though, I have some money for you for all that work you did.”

“No, you don’t have to—”

Eddie takes a hurried step forward, his white sneakers finally breaching the threshold. Vivian is already gone, though, rushing up the stairs. Leaving you alone. With both of them.

“Hey…Hop. John’s in the den, if you want a drink,” you tell him, pointing the way.

With a terse nod and a gruff sound you presume is him answering in the affirmative, Hopper heads down the hall and leaves you and Eddie to your uncomfortable hovering. He leans on the narrow table in the entryway, staring at his own hand as he traces the edge of the wood with his finger, the rest of his hand closed in a fist. He won’t look at you now. Won’t lift his chin an inch.

“What are you doing here?” you whisper.

Eddie just shrugs, staring now at his sneakers he’s scuffing against the oriental rug under his feet. His mouth parts slightly, but no words come out. His chest rises with the breath he draws, but he swallows his non-response when he hears Vivian at the top of the stairs.

“Here you go, dear,” she says, handing over the envelope full of cash with his name written on it that’s been sitting on her bureau for weeks now.

His head shakes. “You really don’t have to—”

“Nonsense! You did such beautiful work out there, it was so wonderful to come home to. You ought to think about going into landscaping.”

Vivian just about forces the envelope into his hands and he mutters out a thank you, tapping his fingers on it and making furtive glances towards the door as she whirls around to you.

“You two met, right?” she asks. “He must have been here all the time working.”

“Y-yeah, yes, we—”

“Thank you,” Eddie says, stuffing the money into his back pocket and reaching for the doorknob in one motion. Still not looking you in the eye. “I’ll, um…I’m sorry to disturb you…”

He goes to leave, one foot already out the door when she suddenly stops and looks back over his shoulder. You feel your breath catch, his gaze finally lifting to meet yours.

“Have a good night,” he says quietly. And then he’s gone.

The door doesn’t slam. He doesn’t even shut it particularly hard. Still, you can’t help but flinch as it closes soundly behind him. There’s something so final about it, but it doesn’t feel like enough after everything that’s happened—it doesn’t feel right for it to end with something so hollow.

Vivian just smiles and loops her arm with yours.

“Ready to go find the boys?”

You walk Hopper to the door after dinner, more or less coerced into it by your sister.

There’s a slight scuffle as you try and figure out how to say goodnight to one another. He winds up reaching out a hand as big as a bear’s paw and clumsily pats your shoulder, almost like he is one, when he seemingly can’t decide between hugging you or shaking your hand. 

Chuckling through it the best you can, you keep the same fake smile you’ve worn all night firmly plastered in place until the door closes with him on the other side. And you stand there for a minute, not too keen on going back in the kitchen for your impending cross-examination.

But then your eyes land on the vase sitting on the table in the entryway. More specifically, on the folded piece of paper tucked behind it with only a ripped edge peeking out. 

You reach for it, flashing back to a ringed finger tracing the edge of that table, fist clenched around something, and your hands shake as you unfold it to read Eddie’s note scrawled inside.

I’m parked down the street.

It’s just starting to rain as you hurry down the driveway, skulking through shadows as you walk along the quiet street. In the distance, you can hear the rumble of the approaching storm as fat raindrops hit the top of your head and slide down your scalp through the forest of your roots.

A pitch black sky overhead matches the road under your feet, scantly lit by a lone streetlight. The wind picks up as you look around for Eddie’s van and just when you’re starting to think he must have left already, you spot him on the side of the road under the cover of some trees.

At first all you can see is the glowing orange dot at the end of his cigarette, but his face steadily comes into view as you approach the driver’s side door. A blatant attempt to avoid what you know will happen if you climb in the passenger seat.

The rain starts to fall a little harder as he rolls his window down. It soaks the ground at your feet, clouds of steam rising from the pavement. The air is thick and heavy, like standing in a bowl of soup. It has your shoulders sagging with the weight and your lungs struggling to draw breath.

At least that’s what you let yourself believe.

“How was your date?” Eddie asks with a bitter laugh that does little to disguise his disgust. You shake your head, pushing back a wet piece of hair clinging to your cheek.

“It wasn’t a…It was just dinner.”

The hurt in your voice makes his eyes round and soften, cheeks hollowing as he takes a long drag. Seemingly breathing in as deeply as he can to steady his own frayed nerves.

“I was afraid you might have left already,” he says.

“No,” you tell him, eyes falling to your feet. “Not ‘til tomorrow.”

He nods.

“I, uh—I know I shouldn’t just show up like this. But I wanted to tell you…” His jaw is clenched, bottom lip shaking almost imperceptibly, corners of his mouth turning downwards as he stubs out his smoke. “I need you to know that I don’t regret it. Any of it.”

He lifts his gaze to meet yours on the last words, brown eyes like twin black holes that hold all the mysteries of the universe. There’s a terrifying vastness to them, a depth you’ve only barely scratched the surface of. Your lips press together and you pinch your eyes shut as your hand creeps up to rest on the door, fingers curling around it as raindrops splash on the interior.

The thunder only gets louder as the storm nears, the rain now falling in a rapid patter. Here it is, you tell yourself. This is what you knew was coming. This is where you knew you’d end up.

“I don’t regret it either,” you say, raising your voice over the sound of the rain, forcing down the tremble in it. “And I…I’ll never forget it.”

You can only hold his gaze for a second before you have to look away. And as you do, you give the door a tight squeeze, wishing it was his hand instead.

“Bye, Eddie.”

Your feet carry you away like you’re on autopilot.

You’re barely conscious of the steps you take or the direction you head in as the rain ramps up to a downpour and fully soaks through your clothes. Your head is spinning and foggy, unable to register much of anything until one sound breaks through—the creak of the van door swinging open and slamming shut, followed by the splashing of water under sneakers.

The solid weight of his hand on your shoulder makes you start as he turns you towards him, the rain falling harder and the wind blowing faster all around. The trees overhead whip back and forth in a frenzy, their branches dipping low and their leaves swirling wildly in the air.

“Eddie, someone could see—”

He wraps his hands around your wrists to wrench you closer, pulling you into his body, both of your faces splattered with rain, barely able to see anything beyond each other.

“Let them,” he breathes out before his lips slam into yours.

The sound of the storm is only magnified inside of Eddie’s van, every drop of rain on the metal roof practically deafening as you climb through the rear and your bodies slide against the floor. The carpet inside is rough and scratchy, the fibers imbedded with decades worth of dirt and crumbs and tobacco and weed particles, but you can’t find the will within you to care.

All you can think about, all you can focus on, is him.

His kiss is harsh and punishing, lips mashing rough against yours, teeth clacking as he devours you. Aggressive and bruising in a way that, deep down, you know you deserve. 

Your wet clothes cleave to your bodies as you struggle to drag them off, steadfast in their refusal despite your feverish attempts. Eddie’s jeans and boxers only make it to the middle of his thighs before he’s pushing inside of you and a strangled moan releases from his throat.

The stretch makes you writhe, the stinging pain quickly becoming an afterthought as your need for him overrides everything else. You fist his wet shirt in your hands, rivulets of water trickling down your forearms as you clutch it tight to pull his body as close to yours as it can get.

Adrenaline races in your veins as he begins to thrust and you realize it’s the first time he’s taken you bare, the velvet of his skin dragging against your walls with nothing to separate you.

He fucks you fast and hard, your legs kicking up to wrap around his waist, your ass burning from the friction, your muscles tightening and tensing with every move. His whole body is quaking as he drives himself inside, the van rocking, teetering like it’s about to tip over the edge of a cliff.

He fucks you like it’s the last time he’ll get to, because he’s pretty sure it will be.

“Let me come in you,” he groans in your ear, more command than request. “Want to fill you up, want you to feel every…fucking…drop…”

The words are grunted out in time with his thrusts, his hips pushing deeper with every heaving breath, his cock twitching inside you as your walls pulse and tighten around him.

“Fuck, Eddie, oh my god!”

Your fingers weave into his wet curls, twisting them in your grasp at the root, tugging his head up and holding him there so you can stare into his eyes, your own vision strained in the dark.

Lightning flashes through the windshield, followed instantly by a clap of thunder. So close it could have struck right outside. For an instant, the van is illuminated and you see his face fully—eyes wide and wild, hair half-dried in damp coils, tattoos stark against pale skin that glows white.

It only lasts a second, but it shows you everything you need to see.

“Come, Eddie,” you gasp as the lightning dissipates and the whole van rattles from the force. “Want you to come for me, come in me—”

And he does. As fast and hard as the lightning strike, Eddie’s cock bursts with rope after rope of his release spurting inside of you, your center tingling as the feeling of it spreads throughout your body. The noise he makes in your ear is ungodly. It pours out from deep in his throat, guttural and resonant as the echoing claps of thunder. He drops all of his weight onto you, shaking from the force of his orgasm as you’re flattened between him and the floor.

“It’s okay,” you coo softly, your fingers loosening your grip on his hair to stroke it instead, nails dragging soft and slow against his scalp.

He shivers at your gentle and soothing touch, inhaling shaky breaths of you with his face pressed to the juncture of your neck and shoulder. Safe and dark and warm.

“I love you,” he says, his voice cracking in a dry sob as his tears slide off his cheeks to mix with the rainwater and sweat on your skin. Your throat clenches as you swallow, still trying to force down the words that have sat heavy in the center of your chest for weeks now, fighting to be said.

Finally, finally, finally, they make it out.

“I love you too.”

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requested tags: @cryingglightningg @saramelaniemoon @winchester-angel @nope-thanks @bastardstevie @tlclick73 @skyfullofsong123 @mmmunson @micheledawn1975 @woahnotmecryingoverafanfiction

[bloodreinasbathwater]

My Sunshine

Jack Hughes X F!Reader

a;n i have been so excited to release this chapter. I really think you guys are gonna enjoy the next chapter of my Sunshine, i rote it when i was sad, so now you guys have to be sad too.

Warnings: pregnancy, arguing, toxic ex-boyfriend, suggestive wording lol, anxiety, fighting

masterlist link / previous chapters

Word Count - 3950

Two weeks later

17:35pm

Jack had just returned home from his snowy mountain vacation with Y/N, feeling lighter than he had in years. As he walked through the front door, the familiar warmth of his family's home enveloped him. His mother, Ellen, came bustling in from the kitchen, a radiant smile on her face.

"Jackie, my darling!" she exclaimed, pulling him into a tight hug. "We've missed you so much. How was your trip?"

Jack chuckled, returning the embrace. "It was amazing, Mom. Y/N and I had such a wonderful time."

Ellen pulled back, her eyes shining. "Y/N, huh? Is she the special someone you've been telling us about?"

Jack felt a blush creep up his neck. "Actually, that's what I wanted to talk to you and Dad about. Is he home?"

As if on cue, Jack's father, Jim, stepped into the entryway, a warm smile on his face. "There's my boy!" he said, clasping Jack's shoulder. "Welcome home. How was the trip?"

"It was great, Dad," Jack replied, glancing between his parents. "Listen, I - I've been thinking a lot about the future, and about building a family of my own. Y/N and I, we're getting really close, and I think I'm ready to take that next step."

Ellen's face lit up, and she clasped her hands together excitedly. "Oh, Jackie, that's wonderful news! When do we get to meet this special young lady?"

Jim chuckled, draping an arm around his wife's shoulders. "Slow down, El. Let the boy speak."

Jack smiled, appreciating his father's steady presence. "Well, that's actually what I wanted to talk to you both about. I was hoping you could come over for dinner sometime soon, so you can get to know Y/N better. I - I think I'm going to ask her to be my girlfriend."

Ellen practically squealed with delight, pulling Jack into another hug. "Oh, my darling boy, I'm so happy for you! Of course, we'd love to meet her. And Jim and I have been hoping for grandchildren, you know." She shot a pointed look at Jack's younger brother, Luke, who had just entered the room.

Luke raised his hands in mock surrender. "Hey, don't look at me. I'm still figuring this whole 'settling down' thing out."

Jim chuckled, giving Luke a playful nudge. "You'll get there, son. But your brother here is taking the plunge. We're proud of you, Jack."

…

20:41pm

Later that night, after his family had finally left, Jack found himself staring at his phone for what felt like the fifth time that day. Still no reply from Y/N. He let out a frustrated sigh, his brow furrowing as he tossed the phone onto the dining table with a little more force than necessary.

What was he doing wrong? Jack wracked his brain, trying to pinpoint where things might have taken a turn. Their trip to the snowy mountains had been absolute bliss - they'd spent their days cuddled up by the fireplace, sipping hot cocoa and talking for hours about their hopes and dreams.

Y/N had seemed so happy, so at peace. He thought for sure that when he got home, he'd be ready to take that next big step and ask her to be his girlfriend.

But now, radio silence. Jack couldn't help the doubts that crept in. Had he come on too strong? Pushed her too hard to commit? His family's eagerness to meet Y/N suddenly felt like too much pressure. Jack grabbed his dinner plate and headed to the sink, scrubbing at the ceramic with more vigor than necessary.

No, he knew in his heart that he hadn't done anything wrong. Their relationship had blossomed so naturally, built on a foundation of mutual trust and respect.

He'd made it abundantly clear that he was pursuing her, that he wanted a future together. So what could possibly be the issue?

Letting out a heavy sigh, Jack shuffled over to his bed, sinking down onto the soft mattress. He stared down at his phone, willing Y/N's name to light up the screen.

Maybe she was just busy - caught up in her writing or dealing with some other personal matter. The rational part of his brain knew he shouldn't jump to conclusions, but the anxious part kept whispering doubts.

Jack flopped back against the pillows, his mind drifting back to their trip. The way Y/N's eyes had sparkled in the soft firelight, the gentle brush of her hand against his as they walked through the snow-covered woods. He'd felt so at peace, so certain that she was the one he wanted to build a life with.

Letting his eyes drift shut, Jack tried to push away the nagging fears. With any luck, he'd wake up to her reply in the morning, and they could figure out whatever was going on.

All he wanted was to have what his parents had - that deep, abiding love and the chance to create a family of his own. But for now, he'd have to wait and see what the future held. Holding onto that hope, Jack felt himself drifting off to sleep, his phone still clutched tightly in his hand.

…

3:34am

Y/N felt the tension coiling in her stomach as she faced off against Jason. The air in her small living room felt thick with his toxic energy, his condescending tone grating on her nerves.

"Come on, Y/N, you know I can be a good father," Jason pressed, his voice dripping with false sincerity as he took a predatory step closer. "Just give me one more chance - I'll prove it to you."

Y/N held her ground, her heart pounding in her chest, her hand instinctively drifting to cover the gentle swell of her belly. Twenty-two weeks pregnant now, a secret she'd been guarding fiercely from the world, still terrified of the reactions she would inevitably face.

The thought of Jason worming his way back into her life, especially now, made her feel nauseous, her insides churning with dread.

"No, Jason. We're done," she said firmly, her voice steady despite the tremble threatening to betray her resolve. "This is my life, my choice. I don't need you in it."

But Jason wasn't one to take rejection lightly. His eyes narrowed into slits, his lips twisting into a cruel smirk that sent shivers down Y/N's spine. "You think you can just shut me out, huh? You're nothing without me, Y/N. Nothing but a scared little girl playing house."

Y/N's jaw clenched, her fists tightening at her sides as she fought to keep her composure. "I'm not scared of you anymore, Jason. I won't let you manipulate me because you’re lonely."

Jason's laughter was like nails on a chalkboard, grating and harsh. “you have no idea what you're getting yourself into. You'll come crawling back to me, begging for my forgiveness, just you wait."

He looked around the living room, his gaze settling on the photo of Y/N and Jack, taken during their blissful mountain getaway. Suddenly, realization dawned on his face.

"Who is that?" he demanded, jabbing a finger toward the image. "Who have you been seeing behind my back?"

Y/N felt her heart pounding in her chest as She stared at the photo, at the way Jack's arm was wrapped protectively around her, the adoration in his gaze, and now the image was tainted by the presence of Jason.

She could feel the familiar nausea bubbling up in her stomach, and she instinctively placed a protective hand over her growing belly. Swallowing hard, she turned back to Jason, trying to maintain her composure.

"That's none of your business, Jason," she replied, hating how her voice wavered. "I don't owe you any explanations."

"The hell it's not my business!" Jason exploded, taking another step forward. "You're carrying my child, Y/N. I have a right to know what's going on in your life."

"This baby is not yours, Jason," she spat, the words dripping with venom. "I'm going to raise it on my own, without you."

Jason's eyes narrowed, and he took a step closer to her. "Yeah, right. Like hell you are. I'm going to fight for my rights as the father, Y/N. You can't keep me from my own kid. Now I know you've been seeing someone else, Y/N, and I'm not going to just sit back and let you take my child away from me."

Y/N felt the walls closing in, the weight of the situation bearing down on her. She needed to get Jason out of her home, to protect herself and her unborn child.

She felt the tears welling up in her eyes, the stress and anxiety of the situation becoming too much to bear. "Jason, please, just go," she pleaded, her voice barely above a whisper. "I can't deal with this right now. I need you to leave, and I need you to leave my baby alone."

Jason opened his mouth to argue further, but the sound of Y/N's phone ringing interrupted him. She glanced down at the screen, her heart leaping as she saw Jack's name. Taking a deep breath, she answered the call, hoping that his soothing presence would be enough to calm the storm that was raging within her.

…

Y/N felt a surge of relief wash over her as she heard Jack's voice on the other end of the line. "Jack, I-I'm so glad you called," she said, her voice quivering with emotion.

"Y/N, sweetheart, are you okay?" Jack's tone was laced with concern. "I just had this feeling that something wasn't right, and I had to check in on you."

Y/N glanced back at Jason, who was pacing the living room, his face twisted in a scowl. "I...I'm not okay, Jack," she admitted, her heart sinking. "My ex-boyfriend, Jason, he's here and he's...he's being so awful."

Jack's response was immediate. "Do you need me to come over? I can be there in no time, just say the word."

Y/N's heart ached at the offer, but she knew she couldn't accept. Not with Jason here and her pregnancy still a secret. "No, no, it's okay," she said quickly. "I just...I needed to hear your voice, that's all."

There was a brief pause, and Y/N could almost feel the concern radiating through the phone. "Y/N, sweetheart, what's going on?" Jack's voice was gentle, soothing. "Please, talk to me."

Y/N took a deep, steadying breath, trying to keep her emotions in check. "It's...it's complicated, Jack. Jason...he's been drinking,” Y/N whispered, her voice barely audible. “He's been yelling, saying things I don't want to repeat." She paused, biting her lip as she glanced down at her growing belly. "There's something else, too, but I...I don't know how to tell you."

"Oh, Y/N..." Jack's voice was laced with sympathy. "Whatever it is, you can tell me. I'm here for you, no matter what."

Y/N opened her mouth to speak, but before she could get the words out, she felt a cold grip on her arm. She gasped, turning to see Jason standing in the hallway, his eyes blazing with anger.

"Who the hell are you talking to? " Jason demanded, his grip tightening painfully on her arm. He glanced at the phone screen and saw Jack's name. "Jack? Who's Jack? You think you can just talk to your little boyfriend behind my back?"

Y/N's heart pounded like a drum in her chest as Jason's grip tightened painfully on her arm. Panic surged through her veins, mingling with a fierce anger. She quickly ended the call, her hands trembling slightly.

"Let go of me, Jason!" she hissed, struggling against his unyielding hold. Her muscles were taut, shoulders hunched defensively.

Jason's eyes narrowed to slits, his face mere inches from hers. His breathing had grown ragged, hot puffs of air hitting Y/N's cheek. "Not until you tell me who this Jack is," Jason hissed.

Y/N's nostrils flared as she glared back at him defiantly. "He's none of your business!" she spat, shoving him away with all her strength. Her chest heaved with each rapid breath. Jason stumbled back a step, but his expression only darkened further.

He stepped back towards her, looming over her petite frame. "You think you can just shut me out, huh?" he hissed, his voice low and dangerous. "You're nothing without me, Y/N. Nothing but a scared little girl."

Fury surged through Y/N, her fists clenching at her sides. She grabbed a pillow from the couch and hurled it at him, the fabric billowing through the air. "Get out! Get out of my life!" she screamed, her voice cracking with barely contained emotion.

Jason dodged the projectile, his eyes flashing with unbridled rage. "You think you can get rid of me that easily?" he growled, lunging towards her. Y/N quickly snatched up another pillow, clutching it defensively as her breaths came in ragged gasps.

In a sudden, calculated move, Jason pushed past Y/N and ran into her bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him. Y/N stumbled back, heart racing, and immediately started pounding on the door, her fists thudding against the wood. "Open the door, Jason! You can't just barricade yourself in there!" she cried, desperation lacing her voice.

The sound of thunder reverberated through her apartment, mirroring the tumult within her own heart. Jason ignored her, the distinct click of a lock echoing from the other side. "I'm not going anywhere until you tell me about jack," he shouted back, voice muffled.

Tears of frustration and fear began to flow freely down Y/N's face as she continued her relentless assault on the door, her fists growing sore from the repeated impacts. "Jason! Open the door and leave! Please just leave," she croaked, the words catching in her throat.

But her pleas fell on deaf ears. Defeated, Y/N slumped to the floor, curling in on herself as the tears streamed down her face. She felt trapped, helpless, and utterly exhausted. Minutes ticked by like hours, the sound of the storm outside mirroring the turmoil inside her.

…

About ten minutes later, a loud knock echoed through the apartment, shattering the oppressive silence. Y/N jolted up from the floor, heart leaping with a glimmer of hope. She rushed to the door and flung it open.

There stood Jack, drenched from head to toe, rain dripping from his hair and clothes. His eyes were wide with worry as he took in the scene before him - Y/N's tear-stained face, the closed bedroom door.

Without a word, he stepped forward and gently gripped her arms, his gaze roving over her features with palpable concern. "Y/N, are you alright? What happened?" he asked, his voice low and soothing, betraying the evident fear in his eyes.

Y/N could only nod mutely, her throat too tight to speak. As Jack's hands moved to tenderly examine her arms, checking for any signs of harm, she found herself at a loss for how to react.

This was the same Jack who had always been there for her, who had cared for her so deeply - and now here he was, standing in the rain, soaked to the bone but unflinching in his concern.

"I heard the yelling, and then you hung up so suddenly," Jack murmured, his gaze searching hers. "I was so worried, Y/N. Please, tell me what's going on. Who's Jason? Did he hurt you?" The questions tumbled out, laced with a palpable fear for her wellbeing.

Y/N swallowed hard, her heart aching at the raw emotion in his voice. "I... I don't know what to say," she whispered, her hands trembling slightly. "Jason, he..." She glanced back at the closed bedroom door, her eyes narrowing in determination. "He's in there.”

Jack's expression hardened, his grip on her arms tightening ever so slightly.

The air crackled with tension as the bedroom door suddenly flew open, revealing a disheveled Jason. His gaze immediately landed on Jack, who had protectively placed himself in front of Y/N. For a moment, Jason simply stood there, eyes narrowed as he took in the scene before him.

The sound of the pounding rain outside filled the oppressive silence, a stark contrast to the volatile energy that radiated off the three of them. Slowly, Jason's expression morphed into one of pure, unbridled rage. His fists clenched at his sides as he stepped out of the bedroom, his gaze burning into Jack.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" he snarled, his voice dripping with venom.

Jack didn't back down, squaring his shoulders as he glared back at Jason. "I'm the one who's going to make sure you leave Y/N alone," he growled, his grip tightening protectively around Y/N's arm as he moved to shield her completely.

Jason's eyes flashed dangerously, and he took a menacing step forward. "You think you can just waltz in here and play the hero?" he hissed. "This is between me and Y/N. Stay out of it."

Sensing the impending confrontation, Y/N tried to interject, her voice trembling. "Jason, please, just go. This doesn't have to-"

But Jason cut her off with a harsh laugh. "Shut up, Y/N. You think you can just replace me with this pathetic excuse for a man?" He turned his attention back to Jack, his lips curling into a sneer. "You have no idea what you're up against."

Jack's jaw clenched, and for a moment, Y/N thought he might lunge at Jason. Instead, he stood his ground, his voice low and dangerous. "I know exactly what I'm up against. And I'm not going anywhere until you leave. This is your last warning."

Jason's eyes narrowed, and he took another step forward, his posture challenging. "Or what? You think you can take me on?"

Jack didn't flinch, his gaze unwavering as he stood his ground. "I don't want to fight you, Jason," he said, his voice low and measured.

Jason let out a harsh laugh, his lips curling into a sneer. "You really think you can protect her? I have every reason to be here.” He took another step closer, his movements predatory.

Without warning, Jason lunged forward, grabbing a vase from a nearby table and hurling it at Jack. Jack ducked just in time, the vase shattering against the wall behind him. Jack reacted quickly, ducking and countering with a well-placed jab to Jason's midsection. The force of the impact caused Jason to stumble back, momentarily winded.

Y/N watched in horror as the two men traded blows, their grunts and the sound of flesh meeting flesh echoing through the apartment. She wanted to intervene, to call for help, but her body was paralyzed with fear.

In a sudden burst of adrenaline, Jack planted his feet, bracing himself, and then surged upwards, slamming his shoulder into Jason's midsection. The momentum caught Jason off guard, and he was thrown backward, crashing into the nearby wall.

Jason recovered quickly, his eyes blazing with fury. He surged forward, tackling Jack to the ground and raining down punches. Seizing the opportunity, Jack lunged forward, grabbing Jason by the collar and slamming him against the wall, his forearm pressing against Jason's throat. "This ends now," he growled, his voice low and dangerous.

Jason's eyes were wild, his chest heaving. "We have a family Jack, we’re supposed to be together. She’s trapped me with for life whether she wants to accept that or not," he hissed, his hands clawing at Jack's arm. "Y/N is mine. She'll always be mine."

"Stop this!" Y/N cried, but her pleas fell on deaf ears.

Jack's grip tightened, his face mere inches from Jason's. "She's not yours, and she never will be again," he spat. "Y/N is stronger than you, and she deserves so much better."

Mustering what little strength he had left, Jason suddenly lashed out, his fist connecting with the side of Jack's head. The impact caused Jack to stumble back, momentarily dazed.

Seizing the opportunity, Jason surged forward, shoving past Jack and heading straight for the open front door as he adjusted his clothing.

…

4:27am

Jack winced as Y/N began carefully dabbing at the cut on his cheekbone, her touch feather-light. "I'm so sorry, Jack," she murmured, her eyes full of concern. "I never meant for you to get caught up in this."

Jack reached up, his fingers gently brushing against her arm. "Hey, it's okay," he said softly. "I'm just glad you're safe." His gaze never left her face, captivated by the way the soft light played across her delicate features.

Y/N bit her lip, focusing intently on the task at hand. As she cleaned the wound, her fingers inadvertently traced the line of his jaw, marveling at the warmth of his skin. Jack's breath hitched at the intimate touch, and he found himself leaning ever so slightly into her hand.

The air between them crackled with unspoken emotion, a charged energy that seemed to hum in the small space. Y/N's heart raced, her eyes darting up to meet Jack's, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still.

Slowly, almost instinctively, Jack reached up and gently cupped Y/N's face, his thumb caressing her cheek. "You don't have to apologize," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'd do anything to keep you safe."

Y/N's breath caught in her throat, her hands coming to rest on his chest. She could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat, a comforting rhythm that seemed to steady her own. "Jack," she breathed, her eyes shining with a newfound vulnerability.

Cautiously, Jack leaned in, his forehead resting against hers. Their noses brushed, and Y/N could feel the warmth of his breath on her lips, sending a shiver down her spine. In that moment, the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving them suspended in a private bubble of tenderness and unspoken affection.

Y/N's fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, and she closed her eyes, savoring the intimacy of their embrace. She felt safe, cherished – a feeling she hadn't experienced in far too long. And as Jack's arms wrapped around her.

She nestled closer, her head coming to rest against his chest, and let out a soft, contented sigh.

Jack tightened his hold ever so slightly, his chin coming to rest atop her hair. He could feel the tension slowly ebbing from her body, the initial fear and panic giving way to a fragile vulnerability. Gently, he began to trace soothing circles on her back, his touch feather-light.

"I've got you," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "You're safe now, Y/N."

Slowly, she pulled back just enough to gaze up at him, her eyes shining with a tentative trust. "Thank you, Jack," she whispered, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw. "For being here, for... for everything."

Jack's heart swelled at her words, a tender smile playing on his lips. He reached up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear, his fingertips grazing her cheek. "Always, Y/N," he murmured. "I'll always be here for you."

Y/N felt a warmth blossom in her chest, and without thinking, she rose up on her tiptoes, pressing a featherlight kiss to the corner of his mouth.

Jack's breath caught in his throat, his eyes widening in surprise. For a moment, he was frozen, captivated by the warmth of her touch, the intimacy of the gesture. Then, almost instinctively, he cupped her face, his thumb tracing the delicate curve of her cheekbone.

Slowly, reverently, he leaned in, his lips brushing against hers in a tender, unhurried kiss. It was a silent promise, a testament to the depth of his feelings - a promise to always be her anchor, her safe haven, in the storm.

When they finally parted, both were breathless.

"Come to bed with me Jack..."

…

Tag List <3

@fearfam69691, @alwaysclassyeagle, @rebelatbay, @dancerbailey3, @skepvids, @urbanflorals, @hischierswhore, @literatureluster, @voidohanax, @ivy-34, @bunbunbl0gs, @snailss, @ru-kru, @shawnshoney

[honeywiththemoneyloa222]

It has to happen because you made the rules

Hi babyyyy

I hope you’re not procrastinating

I feel like you are

Lemme tell you this then

STOP PROCRASTINATING STOP BEING LAZY

Dude you’re literally just laying down

How much lazier could getting in the void state get?

You’re “trying”

You’re asking “how”

There’s only so many “how’s” before you realize

There’s no more information to pile up

How about you just lay down

Forget everything your desires included

Just chill

My baby you’re too cute to be stressed

Stop doing that

Yo you don’t get this stressed to go to sleep do you?

I’m confused

So you can say dream

Sleep

Disassociate

Fantasize etc

You mean to tell me you can do ALL THESE THINGS THAT MAKE YOU FORGET ABOUT YOUR 3D

But you can’t get in the void?

Yeah that’s right

You can’t

Why?

Cuz you assumed it

This is your life bitch

So why are you fighting against yourself?

You’re the one who discovered this

You’re the one who has been here since the beginning of YOUR time(birth)

You’re the one who’s gonna be in YOUR life forever

And YOU discovered the void and LOA

So if anything

Your self concept should be sky high

Cuz you’re that bitch

And you’ll always be

Nobody is above you

We are all baddies

We are all god

We are all powerful

All you’re doing

Is what I always tell you

On my other posts

Lay down

Use a method or don’t

It’s up to you

Use a subliminal or don’t

Your choice

But vibe

Literally don’t even think of your desires and don’t think of the void as a place

It’s not a place

It’s an experience

You dream

Not a place but an experience

Everything you’re doing

Even right now is an experience

Your home is a place

But you living in it and doing things in it

Is experiencing it

Experience is not equivalent to a place because places like homes restaurants etc are just places

Experiences would be whatever happens IN those places but it’s got nothing to do with the buildings

It’s what YOU are doing that creates the experience you had/have

It’s the energy that you have your awareness

Like you could see a house

Cool

By creating memories IN that house

You experienced living in it

That creates such experiences

I know it sounds confusing but let me break it down

The void is not a place

It’s an experience

Because when you’re openly willing to experience something you’re unconsciously giving yourself freedom and power and control to do that thing

Like I said

OPENLY experiencing

Because I know we all “experienced”(I’m tired of using this word now lol) some things that weren’t good

But guess what

You still hold the power to change those “experiences”

The void is inside of you

You can’t “go” there

You become aware of it and you experience it

It’s not a house

It’s not the bakery

It’s you

Your desires were yours the moment you said that you wanted it so there’s no need to worry or constantly try to get in the void only to get your desires if that’s your only goal

You’re cooked

Because why as a god

Are you so desperate to get your desires?

Chill bro

Your subconscious knows you better than you do

Because it developed way faster than you it makes up 95% of our brain power

You come out the womb already knowing how to cry

How to blink

Etc

Yes you eventually learn to walk crawl etc

Why

Because it was embedded into your subconscious mind in how to do that

You can still walk

And you’re how old? Think about it

Your subconscious mind IS THAT powerful it remembers everything you learned as a baby

It remembers things you don’t

Like mastering the void as a newborn

Who knows how many times we’ve probably accidentally gotten in the void as a little baby

I’ve heard stories about people saying they had to get in the void as a CHILD! But they didn’t know what it was

It’s meant to happen

You discovered the void

Not by accident

Although we can all enter everyday me in the world is capable what makes you special is that

YOU know you can

Others don’t

You discovered it for a reason

It’s meant to be

Things that are meant for you

A apart of you and it can never be APART from you

The void is kinda like your soulmate

It’s gonna always be there

It’s always been with you

Will always be

And no matter how much you procrastinate complain overcomplicate stress over nothing

You’re still gonna enter the void

Why

Because this was your first experience

You’re a pro at this already

You’ve been unconsciously doing this since your mothers womb

If you do something repeatedly on accident you can do it on purpose

Good day

Much love 🩵🩵

P.S Everyone has different opinions on what the void is

Or how they enter

This is mine only flow with what you resonate with

I love you Good Luck Queens!!!!

[810nd1]

Are BTS members aware of the readings people do on them?

And do they know about the existence of my page? 🙈

It just bothers me, okay? People have been doing readings on them since 2017. Ain’t no way they haven’t heard of anything within those 7 years. I have to check if they know in real life that people do readings on them. And if they have found my blog 😬😬

Take it lightly!!!! Like a joke!!!! I’m not that delusional to think they know about my mere existence, my Gemini mercury brain just has to ask this!!!

I’m gonna get some hate for this one 😭😭

Jin

Are you aware about the readings?

the moon rev, 6 of pentacles

Literally the card that speaks about uncovering the truth. With the 6 of pentacles. He knows but he might not be into that. He lets us do our thing. He thinks we’re just having fun and it’s harmless. Kinda like „let the kids have their fun”

Has he found my page?

the moon

Nope, he hasn’t.

Suga

Are you aware of the readings?

the moon, the empress, 7 of pentacles

He kinda knows but it’s like someone told him about it. He is more aware of the readings in the 5D but in the 3D like I said, someone might have pointed it out to him. That there are people doing tarot readings on him but he hasn’t seen them with his own eyes. He doesn’t care, he’s too focused on himself and just like Jin thinks it’s funny and allows people to have some fun.

Has he found my page?

8 of swords, 7 of pentacles

A no and a yes? I think he is aware that I’m here as a group of tarot readers that do readings on celebrities. And I am a part of that group. He has no time to actually check it and read any of these posts about him. I’m having a heart attack if one of those answers will be a yes, I will jump off of a bridge 😭😭

J Hope

Are you aware of the readings?

seven of wands, eight of wands, two of cups

Again I think he most likely hasn’t seen them but somebody told him about it. And he finds it kinda creepy when people do tarot on him but he can’t do much about it.

Has he found my page?

3 of cups, ace of cups, the high priestess rev

Maybe he saw my page somewhere or someone told him about me. Anyway he just ignored it. I hope that’s not true and he has never found me or heard of me 🤡🤡

RM

Are you aware of the readings?

ace of wands, the chariot, the sun

Yes, and probably has seen some of them. There’s a possibility he was interested in how that works that we can predict future and did some digging about that topic of cartomancy

Has he found my page?

king of swords rev, the empress rev

That’s a huge no (what a relief)

Jimin

Are you aware of the readings?

3 of swords, 4 of pentacles

Yes and he hates it. Especially the ones that invade his privacy a bit too much. He feels the need to protect himself from that but he’s angry and also kinda hopeless. He can’t really do anything about it. I don’t think he even believes that tarot is accurate. He thinks it’s just people’s fantasy of him.

Has he found my page?

7 of cups, the hierophant rev, king of cups rev

Just like Suga he might have heard about people that do tarot that’s how he knows I exist. As someone that does tarot on celebrities as a group of people, not my page alone. Besides he ignores all of us, he’s just aware that we exist.

V

Are you aware of the readings?

4 of wands, 3 of swords, the hermit

He is. V knows what we’re doing here. He might have seen some of them and liked it. The cute ones. However unfortunately he also saw the dark side of the kpop tarot tag and it hurt him. I mean he saw the readings that invade his privacy too much, like the nsfw readings or all the questions that are out of line. He isn’t angry like Jimin, he is hurt and sad that his fans do that to him. Since the day he found out what is going on he left and never came back. He has more important things to do. He pretends we don’t exist. Yeah, some of you traumatized him.

Has he found my page?

ace of cups rev, 7 of cups rev, king of cups rev

No, he hasn’t. He doesn’t let himself to see any of those readings because like I said somebody traumatized him in the past. He thinks it’s best to stay away from all of us because people just take way too much from him. He doesn’t give himself the opportunity to check any of the new readings cause it will upset him.

Jungkook

Are you aware of the readings?

6 of swords rev, queen of cups, ace of wands

Hear me out, He knows. Some of these readings annoy him greatly and those are the readings he avoids. Or more like he is trying to avoid them, he sees them and then he gets pissed. He knows some of the readings are fake but he has some trusted tarot readers whose work he enjoys to read. He just knows who does those readings with good intentions vs who has some different, not so pure intentions towards him (people that lie in readings about him or use him for money)

Has he found my page?

knight of wands rev, knight of cups rev, ace of cups rev

That’s also a strong no. Guess I won’t be taking a trip to a nearby bridge today

Bonus

Will any of the BTS members find my page? Ever?

knight of swords, the emperor, knight or wands

And that’s a yes. One of them might stumble across one of my readings. Hopefully they will like it and won’t find it creepy.

And at the bottom of the deck there’s the 8 of wands 😬😬

*opens google search*: bridges near me

[teojira]

Just a thought! Godzilla who tolerates human and mothera who absolutely adores the human and wants to keep it like a little pet is so funny to me

[I want a baby. We are two titans.] [Headcanons]

Summary: Mothra has a soft spot for you and Gojira takes it upon himself to see you, a human. He will not fall victim to your charms.

Word count: 700+

Pronouns: Gender neutral!

Warnings: None that I can possibly think of! Do lmk if I need to though!

A/N: First Goji and Mothra request!! Thank you so much!! I hope these are okay anon! Kinda made it to where it's the set up lore for this request bc that's where my brain took me lmao.

You're not particularly of note, you're nothing, sorry to say it special. No secret heritage, no secret connection to Monarch before meeting the moth titan, but when you find yourself face to face with her, you feel calm and safe.

She's radiating warmth and comfort and quietly as she can squeaks at you, trying to bid you closer to her.

A bad idea really, extremely bad idea but she just looks so soft and loving, so you walk up to her and gently rest a hand on her head, running your fingers through her fuzz.

It's clear She's very sweet on you, she can't always be by your side, having to do her duties as the queen of monsters but she will visit, she also somehow knows where you are at all times.

After the first encounter, Monarch realized they could use you to help locate her so you now have a decent cushy life as the Mothra whisperer among the two twins, the Ziyis.

Dr. Chen is absolutely fascinated to hear about your connection to Mothra, she's one of your main friends in the company who comes to visit you often.

Mothra never lingers for long, but she comes by to visit and rests with you awhile, allowing you to pet and climb on her if you wish, though she makes panicked noises if you accidental stumble, she doesn't really have alot of arm to catch you so girl is NERVOUS.

You're her little human, she'd hate to see you get hurt, regardless if she knows she can fix it.

Goji knows where Mothra is going, to see a human, and he's very against, trying to growl and grunt his point of view to Mothra, but she will have none of it. He rolls his eyes and thumps his tail, trying to emphasize that it is a bad idea and it'll get her hurt.

Mothra has never listened to a man and will not do so now, so she continues her visits with you, coming to him smelling of human.

At this point, he's gonna come see you himself, Mothra is beautiful, caring and a more peaceful titan.

Goji is not, which is why he has no issues with breaching the water next to the Monarch base and coming to find you.

He does take SOME care to not needlessly destroy everything around him, staying in the water and just standing there menacingly as fuck, everyone freaks the fuck out until Mothra follows him, resting on his back, her appendages wrapped gently on Gojis scales.

That's when they figure to send you out, neither Kaiju are attacking, but they know very clearly of Mothra's soft spot for you, so it's a insurance that she'd step in against her husband if he goes rouge.

So they send you out, you humming a village song that Dr.Chen taught you, alerting Mothra of your presence.

She flaps her wings excitedly, leaving her spot on Goji to get to you, her wings enclose the two of you, her way of giving you a hug.

Goji grumbles but gets closer, moving to lay his chest on the ground so he can get a good look at you.

You're so, squishy looking, kinda stupid looking as well, with your big eyes trained on him in fear.

He brings his snout closer, his breath making your hair blow around your face.

Mothra let's out a noise, probably a warning to her King to not do anything stupid.

You can see his visibly roll his fucking eyes at her and then he trains his eyes on yours, directly making eye contact.

He then exhales, the gust of wind knocking you over from the force, he laughs. He honest to god LAUGHS AT YOU.

You can't help but laugh back, from nerves and the fact that he seems so eerily human in this instant.

Mothra slaps him with one of her arms, shaking her head at him, speaking in a language you're sure only exists between them.

Goji uses the tip of his tail to give you something to prop yourself up against, you didn't scream of fear, he hasn't been shot at yet, he figures you're alright, for a human.

ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ꜰᴏʀ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ᴛᴏ ʜᴇᴀʀ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴏᴏɴ!

[unluckilyimnot]

hiîi can I request prompts 7+20 with SAE and kaiser (separate)??

also can I use 🎀 as an anon?? I loveee your work!!

7 - "I thought maybe we will kiss tonight" + 20 - "You'll always be my favorite" with kaiser (hurt to comfort) and sae (fluff)

m.list | rules | prompt list

Note: hiiii I did it exceptionally, it's normally close but maybe I'll open it if I feel courageous

Of course you can !! Anyone can feel free to ask for an emoji or to be tagged when I post ♡

Sae 

When Sae walked into his apartment, it was past midnight. He's been gone all day and wasn't expecting anything when coming back home. 

You both got used to his changing schedule and the time when you used to wait for him was long gone. 

He never expected to see you fast asleep on the couch, a plaid on you and the TV still showing the rerun of Friends. You never really liked it but here you were, badly sitting and breaking your neck.

It didn't take him long to notice the dry tears strains on your checks and a million rushed through his brain. Yet, he'll know nothing until tomorrow. Nothing about your day, what you ate or why those tears were there in the guest place. 

Taking a seat next to you, he laid his forehead against yours, not holding the released sigh in the back of his throat anymore. “I thought I'll get to kiss you tonight.” 

He knows he's absent lately, a lot more than you can handle. And he's so deeply sorry to do that to you. You don't know how bad he tries to get back to just see you awake, before bed. 

You don't know how bad he misses you all day and wants to spend just an evening with you. Because seeing you will always be his favorite part of the day.

Kaiser

Your relationship with Michael was complicated. Call this a situationship if you want, but it was mainly because of the press you weren't together. It would be a scandale if they found out. 

What you never expected is Michael to be so jealous when it touches his co-workers. You've met some, being in the model industry, and he never made a fuss about it. Before today. 

“Please, what are you mad about ?! We're doing our job !” you yelled at him, gripping your hair because sighing loudly. 

Your quota had already expired for the day and he was ignoring you. That's all it takes for you to grab your jacket and start your leave.

“I thought we could have a chill night together. Watching a sappy movie, maybe kissing midway since it would've been shitty but you decided to be an asshole. Thanks.”

His silence was loud. His back was facing you and he didn't even glance in your direction. The anger was slowly replaced with sadness as you exhaled slightly to hold back your tears. 

“Why are you always like this when you're my favorite, huh ?” 

“I'm scared you're gonna leave me for someone else.” He confessed under his breath, you almost missed it. It made you lay your bag on the counter again before taking a few steps closer to him.

“Why would I? It's by being like this that it can happen Michael…” 

“I know but I can't express it another way!” He snapped at you, aiming to push you away but you were out of reach. Instead your gaze falls in his glossy eyes, breaking your heart. 

You didn't forget how mean he was, never, but you couldn't help but hold him close to you. Even if he rejected you at first. 

He's hard to deal with, but deep down you know he's only hurt and scared, and that you have to help him with that. 

Let me know if you liked it!

Reblog are appreciated ♡

[jo-speaks]

talk too much

in which…

Trevor realizes fem! reader is just like him.

Trevor and Quinn were in the living room of the infamous Michigan lake house. Quinn had unfortunately gotten there the same day Trevor did, and was now victim to one of Trevor’s rants.

“So when is Jack getting here with his girl?” Trevor asked, finally ending his hour-long rant about the flight to the lake house. 

Quinn rubbed his eyes, “They should be here any minute now. And also, she’s not his girlfriend.” Trevor gave Quinn a confused look, “Really?” “Trevor. We’ve all known her for ten years. If they were gonna date, they would’ve done so by now.” “I guess you’re right.” “Also, if she were to date any one of us, it would probably be you.” The boy raised his eyebrows, “Why do you say that?” “Because you both talk too damn much.” Quinn said, taking a sip of his water. 

The timing of his words couldn’t have been more perfect. The boys heard footsteps and the familiar sound of your voice was getting closer and closer to the door. Quinn let out a sigh of relief, getting up to open the door for you and Jack. 

As soon as Jack stepped foot in the house, he dropped his bags and ran straight for the living room. He planted face down onto the couch and let out a long groan, causing Trevor to laugh. 

“What’s wrong with you?” He asked. 

Jack turned his head to look at Trevor, “She’s just like you, bro. I love her, but holy shit.”

The boys knew you loved to talk, it was one of the things they loved about you and what drew them to become friends with you all those years ago. But sometimes, you didn’t know when to stop. 

They were never really annoyed with it, always ready to listen to whatever was on your mind at that moment, but sometimes their brains needed a little rest before they were able to process anything you said. 

Trevor was the only one who hadn’t realized this about you, probably because he was the exact same way. He thought you talked just the right amount and was surprised when you were able to sit down through his long hour talks without complaining. 

Quinn had walked into the living room dragging Jack’s bags with him while you followed behind with yours. You had both decided that getting the bags in your rooms was a task you’d deal with later. So for now, you set your bags down and pulled Quinn into a hug. 

“Hey Trevor!” You greeted, pulling away from Quinn to hug the taller boy.

He gladly returned it, “Hi Y/N. Any clue why Jack’s pouting right now?” You laughed at his comment, “I was telling him about my flight. Craziest thing-”

Jack and Quinn both groaned for the same, yet different reasons. Jack had already heard this story, the four hour long drive from the airport giving you plenty of time to talk his ear off, and Quinn had just got done listening to Trevor talk about the exact same thing. 

“How about we go to the boat? Luke said it’s ready to go.” Jack stated, trying to avoid hearing about your flight again. 

A warm feeling rose to your face, suddenly feeling a little embarrassed. You smiled and nodded, following the boys out towards the boat. 

Trevor pulled you back gently, separating you from the other two. “I’d love to hear about your flight.” “Really?”

He nodded, “Yeah. As long as you let me talk about mine.”

~✩~

The four of you spent the rest of the day out on the boat, tired out from all the wakesurfing you did.

Deciding to call it a night, you all headed back inside the house. Since everyone was dry by this point, the boys laid down on the couch, while you headed upstairs to shower. 

Stepping into the bathroom, you already felt relaxed before even stepping under the water. You pulled your hair out of its up-do then pulled your shirt over your head. Not realizing you hadn’t locked the door, the sound of it opening made you jump. 

“Oh! I’m so…” Trevor began, losing his train of thought when he saw you in nothing but a bra. 

Neither one of you moved, too stunned with what was happening. After a few seconds, he blinked rapidly, before apologizing and backing out of the bathroom. 

“Wait!” You called out. 

Trevor stopped in his tracks, focusing his attention on you yet again.

“Thanks for listening to me today. I know I’m a bit… much sometimes.” He let out a soft laugh, “I don’t think you’re too much. I think you’re perfect.” He took a few steps closer to you, “In many ways.”

You cupped his face with your hand, rubbing your thumb gently against his cheek. His eyes fell to your lips, wanting nothing more than to kiss you at that moment. So he did. He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, which you instantly returned. 

It became heated quickly, his hands wandering the rest of your body. His hands found the back of your thighs, lifting you up onto the sink counter, finding a home between your legs as they wrapped around his waist. 

You pulled away breathlessly, “Join me?”

[dcbbw]

WIP Update 5.27.24--Holiday Treats Edition

Hi-de-ho, tumblrs! It is Memorial Day Weekend here in the US, and I am spending the beginnings of the last day  of a 3-day weekend posting WIPs for the first time in what seems like forever!

And I have a lot of WIPs for you today; however, half of them DO NOT HAVE WORDS. I’ll make that up to you by posting extra-long snippets of the ones that do. It’s gonna be a mixed bag, with the majority of these stories being ideas I am unsure popped in my brain or shot themselves out of my ass.

If you have ever read at least one of my WIP updates, you know the drill: all works are in very rough draft and a state of flux; published/posted works may vary. No promises on when anything will be posted, but everything is in an extremely active state of progress.

Everything is below the cut; please enjoy!

Rating is M for Mature because it's me

9 Days a Queen: Based upon the painting The Execution of Lady Jane Grey, and a crapton  of historical dramas, this is the story of the brief yet impactful reign of Queen Riley Brooks of Cordonia.

Object of Affection, Chapter 9: Hard Day’s Night: The Mermaids are on the comeback trail!

Untitled KTAW fic: The suitor from House Theron takes a meeting with the Duke of Ramsford.

The Real Housewives of Cordonia: Lorelei and Hana: The RHOC will be a once-in-awhile series that will focus on a pivotal moment in the lives of the mother/mother-in-law and daughter/daughter-in-law of the ladies of my favorite gang. Except they’re in Cordonia, Connecticut. Once completed, this will be my #HLAW submission.

Dolos: This fic is inspired by my absolute LOVE of Homeland, a now-defunct Showtime series. The subject matter may be triggering to some, so reader discretion is advised. FYI, Dolos is the Greek God of deception, craftiness, and treachery:

“Except one player is notably absent. King Liam of Cordonia,” the host replied.

The visitor slowly lowered his fork. “You have power players such as the United States, Britain, Canada, France … Cordonia will hardly be missed.”

“You’re either stupid or think I am,” the host retorted with the slightest edge to his tone. “Cordonia is in the middle of this maelstrom and trying to play neutral. Which they cannot.”

“You’re still not explaining why I am here with you.”

“King Liam is half Auvernese, his bride is Hidaran. He will have to enter the fray, and when he does, he will be on the wrong side of history. There is a … faction that is willing to ensure that doesn’t happen.”

“Terrorist cells are forming a dime a dozen. It would seem to me that they would jump for joy at a wealthy country financing the winners.”

The host pushed away his plate, his eyes staring into mirrored lenses. “There are no winners here. It’s a complete suicide mission whoever enters the fray; the death of the Supreme One illustrates that. The fact is Cordonia will back the aggressors, regardless of how they spin it, and they have the money and resources to ensure both wars continue for years.”

The visitor lifted his teacup. “And?”

“While this is quite the distraction, other wheels are already in motion that need to be addressed now. In order for that to happen, funding must be cut and diverted. Already, the first-world countries are scaling back. There cannot be a fallback to take their place.”

The visitor sat his cup down, and leaned forward, his elbows on the table. “What are you saying?”

“King Liam must be assassinated; the faction is offering $50 million US dollars to make it happen. Do you want the job?”

This Little Life (Versions Edit): Leo Rhys has died, and his wife and lover finally have the confrontation they’ve waited 20 years for:

We’ve spent the last two decades as an unassuming family living a quiet life in the town of Rury, located in Duchy Krona.  When we were looking for a place to live, I argued returning to my home country of America, but Rury was my husband’s mother’s birth town and seemed the perfect place to escape life in the royal limelight without changing continents.

Yet another compromise I made in the name of our relationship.

Leo spent the first half of our marriage fulfilling his motocross passions and rebuilding with his love, all while using me as a depository for his seed when things went sideways with the one who held his heart. I was essentially a single mother who had hit the child support lottery. I suggested several times we divorce; those were our worst arguments.

When Asher was three, my husband agreed we needed to settle down and focus on raising our family.

We purchased a large farmhouse that sits on the banks of Kingsman River. He used his savings to buy a local farm and construction equipment company that serviced all of Krona and Valtoria to save it from being sold to developers. With his charisma and leadership skills, he was the boss everyone wanted to work for.

I’m Vice-President of Commercial Acquisitions for Cordonia Commerce, the nation’s largest financial institution, a position I was promoted to five years ago. 

We were both active in our community: volunteering at local food banks, and participants in the Krona school system: book drives, bake sales, pestering neighbors and co-workers when it came to fundraisers, coaching soccer and track & field.

There were family dinners and vacations, Sunday feasts, road trips, and pizza nights.

We have four children: twin girls Hope and Joy, who are 19; our son Luca, 15; and our youngest, Asher, who is 13. I love each of them a little harder, hug them a little tighter, and kiss their cheeks a little more often, much to their embarrassment. But I can’t help it; all of them were conceived in drunken indifference, my husband pouring his every misery into my waiting womb after arguments and rejections from another.

It's been a good life, filled with care, respect, and friendship. Honestly, Leo was my best friend. But there was no romantic love, no passion.

Because all we had built together as friends and co-parents, he was supposed to have with his lover, not with me.

I fasten my robe more tightly around my waist as I traipse downstairs; in the living room, reserved for company only, I push apart curtains and twist open venetian blinds. I frown at what passes for dusting in Luca’s world before moving on past the family room where we binge television shows and celebrate holidays.

I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m fine.

Finally, I am in the kitchen, the heart of our home. Arguments, homework, meals, birthday celebrations … they all happen here.  I brew a single cup of the coffee my husband loved; it’s a dark roast from Comery Isle with hints of praline and coconut, which I douse liberally with sugar and cream.

Breakfast will be simple: slices of fried ham; tomatoes, eggs, and yesterday’s rice; yogurt; fruit. I begin pulling dishes and pans from cabinets, food from the refrigerator; my body is rigid, my movements almost robotic. I silently count eggs as I place them in mixing bowl.

Routine, routine, routine.

But suddenly, I can no longer do anything, and I feel the bowl of eggs slip from my hands; I hear it crash against the hardwood flooring.

Grief for so many things overwhelm me, and I slide down a cream-colored wall to the floor, my eyes flooded with tears.

I’m not ready to say goodbye.

Stormholt: Based upon Saltburn. That is all:

My orgasm erupts from the engorged head of my dick like creamy lava from a pornographic volcano. Ropes of seed spurt into the air only to splash back against my member and increasingly sticky hand. My hips thrust against air one last time, and I feel my body shudder.

If you knew Jesus, you wouldn’t be doing that!

Riley’s voice in my mind pushes the last vestiges of the sexual fantasy that awoken me away; with still- closed eyes, I try to calm my labored breathing.

My eyes open, and I study the intricate canopy above my four-poster bed while I lay still. There’s nothing on my agenda this morning except be rich, look good, and suntan: breakfast, workout, pool.

This is the life of the Lord of Stormholt Manor.

The semen and lube are beginning to congeal on my hand, and the tip of my cock feels gummy resting against my thigh. I sit up and shift to the side of the bed; I frown at the sight of sunrise coming through closed, sheer, crimson-colored curtains.

It’s the color of fresh blood.

With the slightest twinge of guilt, I stand and push the drapes open with my clean hand before lighting a cigarette. I stare out the window, seeing my friends and lovers below.  There’s Riley and the baby; Maxwell; Constantine. Regina is in the great room; she enjoys the view of the south gardens from the windows there.

My eyes fall on HIM; anger still roils my stomach at what he did to me.

Betrayal.

I turn away from them; I may or may not stop by to say hello. I begin heading into the bathroom, not bothering with the bed sheets; Gladys will change them. The house is quiet, but that’s to be expected. It’s only 7am; the day officially begins at Stormholt in exactly one hour.

I make short order of my morning’s hygiene; my outfit today will be robe and swim shorts. I’m fastening the sash on robe as I make my way down an immense, window-lined hallway that is in serious need of dusting.

Doors are half-open to bedrooms that currently sit unoccupied. I give cursory glances inside them: beds neatly made, light coatings of dust on furniture, bloody light leaking through closed curtains. Photographs sit on night tables and dresser tops, faces frozen in time. Their eyes look into nothingness, and their lips smile into emptiness.

Tagging: @mom2000aggie @kingliam2019 @bebepac @angelasscribbles @charlotteg234

@tessa-liam @twinkleallnight @indiacater @lovingchoices14

@umccall71 @busywoman @beezm @mainstreetreader

@walkerdrakewalker @superharriet @choicesficwriterscreations

In case you're interested: @lizzybeth1986 @daily-haley

[hjeojeo]

Previous reblogged post (link) (quick summary: people online in creative communities don't interact with each other as they used to, don't share their thoughts and feelings of what art makes them feel, everything is content fodder they reflexively scroll through)

And this post on twitter (link) (quick summary of this video: someone expresses they always feel overwhelmed by messages, and someone else explains humans can't handle being available 24/7 bc this social change was only within the last 20 years so the current social expectation of prompt response is impossible, humans haven't evolved fast enough to handle this kind of stress)

Got me thinking about how everything really is backwards to what would help nurture a genuine community.

We're both too present and demanding of others' presence in the arbitrary ways, but also not present enough with the actual parts that matter like vulnerability with sharing yer thoughts to someone else.

I know that we all know that it's cause of capitalism, but i feel like there are some things we collectively could do about it instead of waiting for capitalism to eventually crumble.

I know that for myself it helped a lot to budget my time online, bc i know my brain can only take so much info before it's just stuck in scroll mode without processing anything (gotta accept that yeah yer gonna miss like 99% of what's going on, but you'llbe able to process yer 1% of what you experience better imo). And i try to remind myself to not just anger respond to ppl when theyre weird/rude to me bc ppl Get a certain way online when they can't experience the irl experience of a whole ass person in front of them (i just ignore those ppl tho bc i don't have the patience or energy to try to interact with those rank vibes).

I think the hardest part is being vulnerable and talking to ppl openly, but i can't tell if that's cause of growing up in an abusive home or bc internet social atmospheres have become so stagnant and moldy, probably both; but i am trying to put some active effort into being more vulnerable and genuine as often as i can even tho i gotta do it with gritted teeth sometimes

Truly, current day is the scifi dystopia of surveillance state government, weirdest social expectations and norms, active modern colonialism and genocides, slavery reskinned as prison system, and probably more I can't remmeber at top of my head.

But i guess like those scifi dystopia genres, all the individual can do is collective efforts as a community, and also fight tooth and nail to nurture yer humanity and human experience...starting with seeing past the usernames and profiles to the actual human being that sits behind the screen..

Cause if you start there, it may naturally lead to the actions that you might want to do but feel that you can't- like showing up for other people/community/people in need/etc, i think when yer in a frozen state everything will feel impossible to you, but i think if you get moving it'll slowly become more obvious to you what the next steps can be, and then i guess that's how you gradually become the person you want to be (you never start off knowing yer full path, sometimes you don't even know yer next step, but you might have some inkling of a thougut of what to try that might help you get information for the next step)

Hm...Idk i have bad habit of trying to neatly summarize stuff for my small brain, this is all stuff for me to digest in the long term

[kalcium-yippee]

'Fuck you' Bouquet - a speed written sbg fic based on this post I saw

(I wrote this when I reposted that but I want it to have a standalone post)

"LOGAN. Logan." Tyler panted as he slammed open the Fields Botany center. Logan was leaning his head on his hand on the counter before being startled to attention. "Ah- uhm, what, what is it!?" Logan went on nervously, thinking someone had gotten into danger.

"I...I need a bouquet..." Tyler panted out, leaning against the doorframe. He walked up the counter after catching his breath. "A bouquet? Uhm...for who?" Logan was a little surprised. Was this for someone he was gonna ask out? He didn't want to pry, so he just agreed skeptically, "s-sure. Why not...uhm, any idea of what you want in it? I, uh, I've been told I'm pretty good with arranging bouquets that 'send a message'...by my grandparents! I..uh I don't think I'm *that* good but y'know..." He trailed off, not wanting to brag, just show that he is qualified, but he felt too nervous to continue.

"Perfect! I need to send a very obvious and explicit message. You can help with that?" Tyler leaned on the shop counter. "Uh...yes?"

"Excellent."

"So...what's the message we need sent?" Logan inquired looking through the nearby flowers. "Well, I really need something that screams 'you are useless and stupid and I hate you', you think you can put something like that together? A real 'fuck you' bouquet." Tyler asked genuinely. Logan was a little stumped for a moment. 'So not for asking someone out...got it. Well then again this *is* Tyler so who knows' Logan rambled in his brain before answering, "...sure?". Logan scanned the shop for anything that could help him out. He came back to the counter with some foxglove, geraniums, orange lilies, meadowsweet, yellow carnations, and a few filler flowers. "This should...yea this should do the trick". Logan grabbed some string and with Tyler's input created a beautiful clutch of flowers that screamed 'fuck you'.

"It's perfect! Thanks! How much do I owe ya?" Tyler asked rummaging through his wallet for cash. "Oh uhm...I'll just charge you 20$ don't worry about it." Logan replied before hesitating to ask, "i-if you don't mind me asking...who are these for?"

Tyler paused. "Oh, well it's my early Birthday gift for Aiden." He replied dead pan, not a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "Of...of course it is" Logan chucked before handing Tyler his 'fuck you' bouquet.

[strooples]

Slice-of-life stories

SOL stories or other genres (but with elements of SOL/a SOL feel at times) tend to be my favorite thing to experiment with when coming up with a lot of my stories. Whether they’re upbeat or depressive, more adventurous or more day-to-day realism etc.

So I thought about some of the story ideas I have plans to make one day or just like to think up! I have basically a billion different story ideas and more OC’s than I could count (IDK if I’ll ever post/talk about them here one day?? might have to do something separate there). Some of which have been planned for years — though never written down.

Off the top of my head we have:

A small story revolving around 3 young adult friends who live together in the top floors of a flower shop. The shop is located in the city center of a big city, where usage of public transport is common. The main character being a girl named Juniper, who gets taken in by 2 roommate friends named Pandora (whose family owns the flower shop) and Ainsley when Juniper’s family kicks her out. The story is just a series of the 3 helping Juniper navigate her first few years as an adult, Juniper playing catch up from not being able to learn how to do a lot of things under her parents’ care, as they all explore the city together.

A comic I have in one of my old sketchbooks from 2019 about a girl who does art but is the struggling-to-stay-motivated type (LOL, I guess this is relatable) and works at a sandwich shop. Basically just some small tidbits of her trying to find her place in the world as she introspects through her job, place in the world, future, and self-comparisons. Some goofy scenes happen too, like bumping into old high school classmates at her job or meeting an artist she’s both admired/compared herself to and becoming good friends in an ironic-kinda way.

Another comic idea of a girl who works in a tea shop but has a gigantic pink pterodactyl friend… it’s supposed to be random and on the humorous side here (but I suck with writing humor sometimes, so I’m figuring this one out). The pterodactyl basically gets the tea shop worker girl out of a ton of hijinks in their crazy/chaotic city, where some new customers or a new recently-hired worker tend to draw strings of crazy events that pile up into some more surrealist randomness. *TBH I sort of like having characters in service jobs of big city environments ((not necessarily food or drink places; it could be something random like a librarian bc of the observations they can make of a diverse range of people)).

Some series of short stories of a happy family I wanted to get down. Exploring a 3-generational household that includes: The grandparents, their daughter (the mom) and her husband (the dad) who marries into the family, their 2 kids, 1 of the kid’s friends who stops by often (as their household becomes like a 2nd home to him), and a single mom + her child residing in their extra room — a friend of the 1st mom and whose kid has been friends with the siblings for most of their life. They’re kind people who help others (which explains why the single mom + the siblings’ friend is integral to their family as one of their own), and everyone looks out for each other. TBH, this is probably a story intended to stay happy + wholesome since it’s a bit of an escapism to see everyone have such a happy place together, no one abandoned or left behind. So my intention was to create stories that abound. Like how the quieter sibling has always struggled to fit in at school, the parents’ past love story, the 1st mom’s childhood as the only child, the single mother and her daughter’s story (+ their previous struggles with a living situation), the friend who comes by often and his feelings, how the grandparents are coping in old (etc etc). I guess I also love weaving stories by understanding people in layers, remembering real life people I’ve interacted with, and trying to understand and envision those characters’ lives similarly.

I have one more that’s kind of a nod to Gary Paulson’s “Paintings from the Cave: Three Novellas” — a book I read in schooling that’s stuck with me for a long time. So basically, it’s 3 separate stories in the same book with a common theme: How the companionship of dogs and art have helped characters cope in difficult times. The first story being a kid who copes with a hopeless life by ceramics, the second a girl who never belonged at home or in school by the friendship of dogs, and the last, a guy whose hope in life is both drawing and dogs.

My own idea was generally theming it around sleep problems that pour into your life, and how kids similarly cope with cats and art. But like “Paintings from the Cave,” it’ll still have a bit of a depressive/somber undertone.

So you get sleep issues like:

Insomnia due to anxiety + trauma for the main character of the first story, whose semi-nocturnal cats and sketchbook keeps them company in the moments awake before dawn. I haven’t planned this part out a lot.

Narcolepsy, as a medical condition that screws with a girl’s life (cause community college + work always sucks if you get sleepy in the day but are utterly unable to sleep at night). Because of her situation, she’s almost flunked a few times and a lot of her employers sadly had to let her go. So she decides to use her imbalanced sleep cycle to volunteer at a local shelter that needs night volunteers — where friendly cats help her regain a sense of confidence. You can’t fail at cats or get rejected from them like in a work environment — so long as they’re given space, care, food, and adequate shelter. So their lack of judgment soothes her in such a way.

Being a self-taught lucid dreamer who often uses sleep to escape reality. That leads to their hospitalization later on. But after being let go, they’re guided by a social worker who’s now organized to come by + help plan their life. They decide one day to use some of their dreams’ events and adventures as the springboard to draw out stories. I guess in a way, using art as a new coping mechanism and way to experience joy while awake.

There was a last story I made for a project in my last year of high school that’s also primarily late night-based and involves a sleepless protagonist (IK this is kind of a running thread — unintentional here). I haven’t really taken it seriously or planned in-depth, but it’s also one that crossed my mind ever so often. The plot basically goes:

A young adult lady works as a translator whose job is to travel between countries to work on translation projects. Her company of employment has bases in tons of different countries that work to transcribe anything from newspapers, books, or subtitles on screen. They have different departments for stable work vs. freelancing, and she’s somewhat 50/50 an office worker and a freelancer (tho the freelancery bits take her all over). She’s fluent in Mandarin, Cantonese, Vietnamese, and English — partaking a project that requires her Mandarin + Cantonese skills. But upon the journey, she meets someone who eventually shakes up her quiet, lonely life between countries.

All in all, each of these stories takes the day-to-day situations and pacing. SOL is sorta what I use as a tool to explore different people’s life situations or see through different lenses for a day. Every now and then, I get ideas for new SOL-themed stories but it’s mainly these in my mind right now. I have many that aren’t in this genre though… but explaining my magic-fantasy-adventure-worldbuildy stories will take forever in comparison lolol.

Maybe one of these days, I can motivate myself to act upon my ideas?

[ratguy-nico]

Adivinen quien al fin dibujo algo? Wich means I'm back baby!

Its not perfect (like everything I made), but I just love drawing comic-like-stuff, I get to relax more. I dont try to do the lines perfectly or the super accurate anatomy (mostly cause I dont know shit about anatomy at all) and also get to be more simple in the colors, wich helps cause I struggle making colors a lot.

I missed drawing my babies...but why did I drawing them like that? XD I swear...I think I should have seen some reference cause I totally change the way I draw the Burger Babys which is crazy for me XD

Now...is this an AU, is this them as teenagers, why is Louise working on Aplebees? Well I didnt put an exact age for the guys here, they could be 16 or 19 I dunno.

This is solely based on this post from @zer0ogravity I lmao with this and totally need it to draw it.

btw I from Latam, I didn't knew what Applebees was until making this comic so if Applebees dont look like this sorry.

[ladyofthelake]

Most fandoms have major disagreements but I love how mostly the Merlin fandom is chill, we see the heart of it and we quietly believe that deleted scenes are canon and that Merlin will magically look young when Arthur returns and I love that

[luck-of-the-drawings]

[<==PREV PAGES] [NEXT PAGE==>(not out yet.wait a year.or maybe more.imagine.]

saw alot of comments on prev pages; saying 'i HATE that mean teacher! im gonna FIGHT HIM!!' & i LOVE the energy!! it WOULD be nice. to have that catharsis. but the story of young tidestrider is Not one of catharsis. it is a story of being so small and so special and sucking so bad.

[cathalbravecog]

QUACK QUACK QUACK QUACK

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

shoutout to those nights where the brain says We Literally Cant Do Anything Even Though We Really Want To <3